The Island
by bionic4ever
Summary: Former operatives never really die....
1. Chapter 1

_**The Island**_

Chapter One - OSI Director's Office - 4/17/89 - 2pm

"Where's Oscar?" Jaime demanded, striding angrily into the office.

"Well, good morning to you, too." Steve smiled at her, hoping to calm whatever storm was brewing.

"Good morning. Where's Oscar?"

"He's retired now - you know that," Steve said, as though he were explaining to a two-year-old. "You're stuck with me now."

"Austin, if you're planning to keep using that tone with me, put a note in my file calling me insubordinate, 'cause I'm about to tell you where to stick it."

"Ok, Jaime: nice deep breath. Now, would you like to tell me what you're talking about, so maybe I can be of some help?".

"Which part of 'Where is Oscar' was unclear, Mister Boss Man, Sir?" Steve merely raised his eyebrows and said nothing. Jaime glared at him. "I went over to his house to see how retirement agreed with him, and he's gone."

"Vacation? People occasionally do that when they retire."

"Barrel of laughs, Austin. But this isn't funny. His house is stripped bare; no curtains, no furniture - nada. If you know something -"

"I'll look into it and get back to you if I find anything," Steve told her.

"Dammit - don't spout OSI rhetoric at me! Could you possibly be the old Steve again, just this once? The one I knew before you sprouted the suit, tie and attitude?"

"Jaime -"

"Did you send Oscar to the Island?"

"You know that if I did, I couldn't tell you -"

"My God...you did!"

"No; I didn't." Steve chose his words carefully. "Listen - this could be a lot more complicated than you realize...You might be better off leaving it alone."

"I can't," Jaime said, growing more frustrated by the second. "Oscar's my friend. I used to think you were, too, but -"

"I am. That's why I'm telling you to back off on this. I'm not the enemy here, Jaime."

"Fine," Jaime said sharply. She started to leave, then turned back toward Steve and gave a quick, very sarcastic salute. "Thanks for your help." She stormed quietly from the building.

Jaime returned to the office an hour later with a white envelope that she held out to Steve. Steve turned away, refusing to even look at it. "Jaime, if that's what I think it is, I'm not going to touch it. I want you to destroy it."

"It's my resignation - effective immediately. You have to take it; according to the sign on the door, it's your job."

Steve shook his head, sighed and removed his jacket and tie. "There. The suit and tie are gone. This is your friend talking to you now: _please_ don't do this."

"It's already done," she said flatly, laying the envelope on his desk.

"Jaime...wait. Please?"

Jaime looked directly into his eyes with an icy stare. "Notify the NSB - or whoever you're supposed to call - that I am now an **ex**-operative."

"Jaime -"

"Just do your job."

Jaime's House - Wash. DC - 4/17/89 - 11:30pm

Jaime had cleaned the house, watched tv and read a book in an effort to distract herself from what might be happening to Oscar. Finally, she could barely keep her eyes open anymore, and headed off to bed. She got as far as the bedroom doorway when she was grabbed from behind, a cloth held tightly over her nose and mouth. She probably could have jammed her right arm back at her attacker and gotten away, but Jaime didn't want to fight. Instead, she took a deep breath, then another. _Chloroform_, she thought, as she was sinking into blackness. _I'm coming, Oscar._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two - ? - 4/18/89 - 6:00am

"She's coming around..."

"...started to think...overdose..."

"Find Williams..."

Voices faded in and out of Jaime's mind as she began to surface from the effects of the chloroform. When she was finally able to open her eyes, she was sure she had overdosed and was dead. The face leaning over her, concern written all over it, was one she'd known well, and even loved, before his death more than five years earlier.

"Hi there," he said softly.

"Chris..." she mumbled in a barely audible whisper. "Then - I'm dead?"

Chris Williams smiled fondly at her. "No, Honey, you're not. Neither am I."

"I...I don't understand...why?"

Chris shrugged. "Guess I'd outlived my usefullness, and they felt I was too valuable to be cut loose on my own."

Jaime's head was out of the fog, and she began to grasp what he was saying. _The Island, _she told herself; _mission accomplished._ She decided to play groggy a little while longer, to get as much information as she could. "Where ...are...we?"

Chris took her hand and spoke as soothingly as he could. "It's sort of an elite retirement community for the OSI's best and brightest."

"Is this The Island?" Jaime asked, knowing the answer.

"Honey, the only people who call it that are the ones who haven't been here."

"Ok, well now I've been here, seen it; where do I get my ticket home?"

"Jaime," he said haltingly, "That's the catch. It's really great here, anything you could ever want or need -"

"Chris, you sound like a damn Moonie. What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"The Chris I knew would've fought tooth and nail to live his life free, on his own terms...So how'd they do it?"

"What?"

"How'd they get to you? 'Cause I don't know about you, but I want my life back. **My** life."

Chris shook his head sadly and stepped away from the bed as two uniformed orderlies came closer. One of them produced a syringe and stuck Jaime in her thigh. The second orderly slapped the side of the first one's head. "Not there, you moron! She's the cyborg...gotta stick her arm - the left one. You're lucky I brought a spare." He pulled a needle from his pocket and did what his partner had failed to do. Within seconds, Jaime once again faded to black.

'The Island' - Cell #4 - 4/18/89 - 5:00pm

Consciousness didn't come as easily for Jaime this time. She faded in and out for quite some time, and it was early evening before she was alert enough to assess her surroundings. She was in a small containment cell, about ten feet by ten feet, solid metal walls, barred in the front, thin mattress on the floor in the far corner. For a few minutes, she couldn't remember where she was or why, but a very familiar voice from the cell next to hers reminded her of her purpose here.

"Jaime?" The voice was very quiet, but it was **_Oscar_**! "Are you awake?"

"Oscar?"

"There's a camera in the corner diagonally opposite your mattress; face away from it and we can talk."

Jaime sighed with relief. "Are you alright?"

"Well, I was - at least as alright as a person can be here - until I saw them drag you past me and throw you in there. Babe, what happened?"

"I had a feeling they sent you here, and I knew it wouldn't be with your consent. So I picked a fight with Steve and resigned," Jaime explained.

"I really wish you hadn't done that..."

"Where are we now?" Jaime asked him. "Some sort of prison for the ones who don't go with the program?"

"Exactly. Ultra-maximum security."

"Hey, no worries, Oscar. I can bend us out of these little bars, no sweat."

"No. You can't. The halls are covered with motion detectors - double key, double code system to shut 'em off." He was glad Jaime couldn't see the un-Oscar-like grief on his face. "Babe, you really shouldn't have come here."

"Well, at least we'll both have company while we figure out what to do."

'The Island - Cell #4 - 4/18/89 - 10:00pm

When the lights were turned out promptly at 10:00, Jaime laid down on the thin mattress, feeling very much alone. If what Oscar had told her was true, that there really was no way out, there was still absolutely no way she'd ever agree to life on their terms; she'd spend the rest of her life in this cell first.


	3. Epilogue

Epilogue - 'The Island' - Cell #4 - 4/19/89 - 7:30am

"Jaime - wake up." She opened her eyes to see Chris standing outside her cell. "Wanna come upstairs with me and have a decent breakfast, instead of the hard roll and water you're getting down here?"

Jaime rolled over to face the rear of her cell, her back to Chris. "I'd rather be hungry."

"Suit yourself."

When Chris was gone, she sat up and stretched. "You were 100 percent right in not taking him up on that, Babe," Oscar told her.

"I know," she answered, facing away from the camera. "Too high a price for me. I'm not selling my soul for bacon and eggs; not even for Belgian waffles -"

Footsteps were coming down the stairs. Jaime tuned in, listening as closely as she could. At least two pairs of boots - guards, she figured. She could hear one other pair, softer soles. Civilian? A very familiar civilian...

"I have a Presidential order! The little basement prison is shutting down, effective immediately. If I have my way, your whole unit will be history. And the two prisoners are leaving with me. Once again, Presidential order."

Jaime nearly cried with relief: **_Steve_**!

"Fine - take 'em. Your funeral. The woman especially has a mouth - and an attitude - you wouldn't believe!"

"I would believe it," Steve said, knowing she was listening. "I'm still taking both of them. Try and stop me and you'll not only have the OSI to contend with, but as much of the strength of the US Army as it takes to reduce this entire hellhole to rubble."

"Whatever you say, Colonel."

The cell doors clicked open. Steve made sure Oscar was safe and able to stand and then he looked over toward Jaime. His eyes softened, and he moved closer to take her in his arms. "I can do this now, since you don't work for me." He smiled as Jaime buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed tears of relief. As he soothingly rubbed her back, he whispered in her ear: "C'mon, Miss Mouth & Attitude - I'll take you home. I told you I wasn't the enemy."

END


End file.
